011. I'VE CRIED TOO MUCH THIS YEAR ALREADY.
february musings, girl comradery, do goals really matter?
Being in the corporate world has already brought with it the familiar sense of panic and chaos as every one finds themselves ‘circling back’ on tasks abandoned from last year. The color-coded categorizations of ‘to do’ and ‘urgent’ seem to rear its ugly head as everyone struggles to reawake from the holiday slumber; a dreary slog emerging after a positive stint of post-holiday greetings. It’s a new year and yet I’m not one of those girls that can make new goals with the full intention of committing to them - put it this way, I’m not writing down any for this year and they’ll just be living in my chaotic Virgo mind.
It’s been a few years since I wrote down goals.
Years since I’m coming to terms with knowing that even though these aren’t in writing, that they won’t be achievable. Doable. Sometimes I feel like when the new year rolls around, the mass market goes into overdrive with stationary embellished with headings alluding to goals that need to be written down. Pencil thin boxes to be checked off. Notepads for the home and office.
And yet.
I see these and get this sort of tightening in my chest. It’s this societal pressure perhaps to write down goals as a way of achieving them and in some cases it alludes to it being the only way to achieve them. Recently I read an article by Erika Geraerts (Creator of Fluff) on the very idea of goals and our attempts to make them and achieve them otherwise heaven forbid ‘failure’ is at the helm - it’s an enlightening article that gives purpose to goal setting and slowing down - goals that are really achievable and as a society do we have this invisible hold over achieving goals that are now unexciting and redundant when in perspective, we’ve actually already achieved our ‘lofty’ big goals instead.
I had a few this year but the kind that I’ve refrained from writing down :
To read more from my TBR (to be read pile) of books at home.
To increase my personal savings, maybe double it even this year.
To set up the skeleton of a website (I know, exciting!).
To interact more with my Insta community. Get to really know them, stick to doing content they love rather than following trending reels.
To savor more time with friends and Sam - being so involved in social media last year, took away such valuable time from knowing the people that I love and this year and now is the time to change that.
Somewhat broad-ish goals, but ones that I guess for the first time have been uttered to you, my fellow Substackers. They’re flexible and perhaps not all achievable. Amongst all of this, I’ve cried more times than I can count this year already - my work inbox has piled up with emails that I haven’t got to in over 3 weeks. It’s now 7:13pm and I’ve been up since 7am working - as I sigh and look out the window, it’s a breath that isn’t taken lightly. I’ve reached burnout yet again and its only February. How did I get to this point where confidence in the new year suddenly spiraled into not being in control? I’m helpless, I’m crying when people are asking me if I’m ok and I barely have enough time to read.
The irony of having a book account right?
A couple of days ago after leaving work in tears and arriving home, a friend of mine from the states messaged me to ask for a video chat and the timing couldn’t have been more stress relieving for us both: she was just fresh out of a breakup and here I am crying from the pressures of work. A chat beginning with waterfall tears and ending in girl defiance. It was liberating to not have to sugarcoat and to speak freely on all topics of pressures and exes and blissful nonchalant girl chat - the kind of chat where all cards are on the table, you can be judgmental as fuck and it doesn’t matter. The kind of friendship that makes you grateful for raw honesty. No judgment on your own actions and laughter built on shared observations. On the other hand, it’s funny how you can have a conversation with a complete stranger and it feels more honest and raw - there’s this comradery that they’re on your side. They understand. There’s no jealous undertone. No undertone. It’s just pure empathy. Yet, don’t you feel it weird that when you have the same conversations with people you know that sometimes the undertone creeps in? It’s just that weird vibe you sometimes get - is there a vendetta with them telling you to just quit? That weird White Lotus Girl Gang energy (if you know you know).
God, why is it that women just can’t have genuine conversations without feeling judged? I think I need to elaborate on this more in another substack. I feel a bit too strongly about this topic to pop it all here right now… so watch this space.
But back to the goals, its it an ambitious list? Maybe yes. But ahh yet again, the Virgo strikes. I seem to have a habit of committing to too much, too soon and it pains me sometimes. A friend I hadn’t seen since art school ran into me in town yesterday where I was having dinner with some friends and she asked how work was going and all I could say was that I was burnt out having a full time job and a bookstagram account - she made a comment that couldn’t have been more of a sign: “but you always had 10 tens on the go anyways! you’ve always been like that!” But have I always been tense and stressed though because of this? Is this where the hustle began? Can I still really keep this up in my late 30’s anymore or is it time for a refresh of priorities? I seem to think the latter.
Where is this sense of actual relaxation? It dips and rises, intertwined with feelings of inadequacy at achieving a to-do-list. I put too much pressure on myself and I know this. The burnout is real people. Growing up I feel like doing so much would get me so much more, so much further. But have I now already accomplished this and it’s time to stop? It’s only February and I’ve cried more than maybe the whole of last year.
I think it’s time to heal and to focus on me a little bit.
p.s expect some more book recs soon! I bloody hell need the distraction alright. x
Reading this made me realise how much suffocated I am on the inside. The expectations of new year are definitely falling short and here I am trying to breathe deeply and do what's best for me.